The First Week

It’s only been a week and I already have to sift through what is extra noteworthy and what is noteworthy. I don’t have time to pick it all. 

Three of us traveled down to Pucallpa together. Dr. Gow-Lee, a medical doctor from Washington who started AMOR Projects in Peru; Chelsea, a fellow Walla Walla University SM (student missionary); and myself. With the exception of getting stuck in Orlando for over 24 hours with the threat of Hurricane Dorian barreling down on us, our flights were relatively uneventful. We arrived in Peru, the City of Pucallpa, in the region of Ucayali in the wee hours of Tuesday morning. Exhausted from 1 night of airport sleeping and 1 night of airport non-sleeping.

Pastor David drove us and our luggage from the airport to the compound where we will be located for the next several months. I’ve been in South American city traffic before, and while this gave me flashbacks to driving through Sao Palo, Brazil, I’ve never seen anything like it. The roads are pure chaos. Traffic lights exist, but I think they’re essentially stop signs. If you want to cross oncoming traffic, you do, by honking your horn and praying the cars on all 8+ sides slow down. No aggression, no fear, just a whole lot of honking and closing your eyes as the car races up to pedestrians. To clarify, the closing of eyes was done by me, not the driver. ;) I was relieved when one old gentleman with crutches barely escaped our tires. 

I know already that the children are going to be a lifeline. Cercia, maybe 6, bounced up to my room as I was unpacking. “Buenos dias!” she said before rattling off several sentences in Spanish. After a couple blank stares on my part and a feeble “No comprende” I could tell she said something to the effect of, “You don’t speak Spanish, do you?” I shook my head, “No. Yo hablo ingles.” Unfazed she simply said, “Ohhhh!” and then continued rattling off several more sentences. Suddenly she stopped, mid-sentence I think, now convinced I couldn’t understand a thing, and instead ran across my room and jumped into my arms.

At 10 am (or diez de la manana) we went bed. When I awoke in the afternoon Chelsea and Doctor Gow-Lee had left for the mobile clinic.

I ventured around the compound to find clean water, practicing over in my head how to ask for it. I found it, as well as ten-year-old twin boys, Caleb and Andres. I’m told they both have a significant speech impediment, but I can’t really tell. It’s all Spanish to me. After practicing the phrases I could remember we stood there staring at each other unsure how to continue. One of them threw a ball at me and motioned for me to join them. When you can’t communicate with words, throw a ball around. It works wonders. 

I like my room here. It isn’t anything fancy, nor should it be, but it is clean and comfortable and that is a huge blessing. Although, I have already had a large spider incident as I was sweeping my floor for Sabbath. Eyeyiyi! That was a trip! 

Even though my official job here will be communications and journalism, I get to help out in the clinic a lot. I’ve spent much of my week working alongside the doctors and other SMs as we administer shots, fill prescriptions, take blood pressure, and even replace catheters. There is a reason I would not make a good nurse. I try not to show that it’s hard for me to watch and help because it scares the patients, but it’s hard to see bodily fluids, intense filth and poverty, and the patients wince with pain. Tonight, Papa Henry, the main medical leader here, let us accompany him on an emergency outing to replace the catheter of a woman with terminal colon cancer. That experience deserves a post all its own. Watching her cry out in pain was hard.

Yesterday I helped out in the pharmacy. Papa Henry was helping Isaac administer a shot so he quickly explained the alphabetical system and left me to myself. It did not take me long to realize I had no clue what I was doing and was severely under qualified. But I was available. Locals lined up outside the little pharmacy room, and handed their prescription papers to me through a tiny window. “Gracias. Un memento,” I would say as I tried to gulp down my panic. I couldn’t read the words due to the handwriting of our main doctor here and the unfamiliar Spanish words. I was confused about the system they used for knowing quantity. And, some of the medicines weren’t in alphabetical order because they were pulled out for more frequent use. I stared at the shelves of medicine for a few minutes, trying to figure out how to let the patients understand that everything was okay but I needed to find Papa Henry before I made a terrible mistake. 

Papa Henry speaks enough English for us to understand him. He certainly knows more English than we know Spanish, but not by much. This will be a huge blessing because after Dr. Gow-Lee leaves no one here will be fully bilingual. Funny enough, I think Papa Henry's level of English speaking will be helpful. We can usually get a good idea of what he's saying, but he uses enough Spanish to keep us from relying on his English. Plus, since we are all at a similar level, it prevents any of us from feeling ashamed of our language skills. No one is anything but encouraging. I've genuinely enjoyed learning Spanish, and I'm catching on quickly. I can say, "Relax your arm," "May I take a picture," "I need a new syringe," "How do you say...," and "Drain the excess water (referring to food, not patients)."  

The garbage truck here sounds like an ice cream truck. I was helping Papa Henry in the Pharmacy when I heard it. "May go I see what's making the music?" I asked. He started to chuckle and said something to the effect of, "So apparently in other countries that music means ice cream, but here it's the garbage truck. I'm sorry. No ice cream." I wasn't exactly disappointed because I knew the ice cream wouldn't have been safe to eat anyway, but I did think it was funny. 

The crescent moon here is more horizontal than in North America. I'll try to get a good picture next time it's waning or waxing thin enough. 

The food here is phenomenal. It's seriously soooo good. Everything is made from scratch, including the soy milk. 

Sabbath is special here. It's tradition to bring in the Sabbath on Friday night with singing. I took a long nap yesterday afternoon and woke up to one of the local families singing together outside my room. When I stepped out, each person, clean and dressed up, came to give me a hug (abrazo) and say, "Feliz Sabado! How do you like your first Sabbath here?"

I have more thoughts in my pocket, but for now I must sleep. Tomorrow comes early, and we have both clinic and Pathfinders.

Goodbye, my dear people. Thank you for reading and encouraging me in this journey.

~TBS~